My girlfriend and I went to see "The Passion of the Christ" together on Saturday night -- she wanted to catch it before it left the "big screen", and it seemed like a reasonable way to redeem an otherwise mishappen day.

First, some of the unambiguously good stuff: The scenery and costumes were excellent. Most the acting was very good. (Though I found it impossible to buy Gibson's over-the-top Barabbas as the leader of insurrection -- this guy would be more likely to be seen ripping up the men's room at a local bar than leading a group of loyal followers against the Roman empire.) And some of the "added touches", when comprehensible (I could not figure out the "demon children" either), were great -- for example, I loved the teardrop at the end. Very cool.

But in other ways, I think we'd both read a bit too much about it. We were seeing the film through the prism of all the reviews we'd heard. I ended up spending more time analysing it than just viewing it. We both remarked this made the actual experience a bit anticlimactic. That's what you get for going at the end of the run, I guess. A bit like reading the book first. Which we'd done also, come to mention it. :-)

Ah, but what about the violence? Interesting reaction there. She said it was much more violent than she'd anticipated. I felt it was much less.

First, I'd heard so much about the flogging scene -- how over-the-top it was, etcetera. So, ruining the effect for myself, I checked my watch when the blows started. I kept count, as best as I could. I ended up watching the filmmaking rather than the content. Sigh.

But what I saw, viewed that way, suprised me. I had read reviews containing passages like this one in People Magazine, by Leah Rozen:

The violence is ceaseless and graphic. In a movie about compassion, Gibson shows little for his audience. It's not just that we see Jesus (Jim Caviezel) being whipped by Roman guards, but that the flaying drags on and on, with loving close-ups of the scourge marks oozing crimson.

But in fact, Leah is, as best as I'd see, dead wrong. Though about 78 lashes were rained down on Caviezel's back you actually saw something like eight of them. It's true that you see the lash get stuck in Jesus' skin, and be ripped away. Yes indeed. But far more often, the camera is focused elsewhere. Other conversations. Other faces. Other times. Numerous flashbacks and cutaways. And lots of implied, not actual violence, such as focusing on Caviezel's hands, or his face where you cannot see the blows land. Or a soldier's shoe, which is spattered lightly with red droplets.

No, what Gibson is doing is making the audience squirm. It's what he's doing with their feelings which is excruciating, not what actually shown on the screen. In an age in which we dehumanize the objects of our violence -- a'la Tarantino -- to the point where blowing off someone's head becomes a joke we should all laugh deliriously, Gibson is forcing his audience to humanize the victim, to experience his suffering.

I'd heard the beating occupied 30 minutes, nearly a quarter of the film. Yet when they stopped, I checked my watch again: ten minutes. Ten minutes! This is what everyone was up in arms about? A ten-minute lashing? (Perhaps I timed it wrong?)

So Leah was dead wrong: It's not "ceaseless" -- there are constant distractions, constant cut-aways, frequent happy interludes. And it's seldom "graphic" -- instead, it's mostly implied by sound effects, facial expressions, and the generous use of gore-makeup and fake blood.

Yes, that can be icky. But no, it's not unrelenting graphic violence.

Despite a positive review, Roger Ebert said this was the most violent film he'd ever seen. So I went in expecting something more violent that the worst I'd seen so far in movies. The Passion certainly was violent, but it wasn't worse than what I'd seen in other areas.

For example, I'd seen heads and arms constantly lopped off in the Lord of the Rings films. Tons of bodies. There was none of that: There were but four deaths. Judas hangs himself off-camera. And the three who are crucified die quitely, with no struggle, contrary to a real crucifixion, where the victim basicly dies of asphyixation, with a quivering struggle, as in movies where a victim drowns, or when Priss dies in Blade Runner. And we don't see the nails pierce the skin, as we also did in Blade Runner -- the action is blurred in the background, or merely implied.

Another example: I'd heard a thief lost as eye to a raven -- as sometimes happened in such circumstances. Thus, I recalled previous instances where I'd seen such: In "Any Given Sunday" -- a movie I thought would be about football -- I saw an eyeball ripped out of the socket, lying on the field. Nerves and all. And there were plenty of gross eyeball effects in The Minority Report.

So I expected far worse from this "most violent movie ever". Yet the thief's loss of an eye was implied by a blur of fast motion, not displayed. You knew what was supposed to have happened. But you didn't see an eyeball -- much less one being plucked out. Nor did we see an empty socket, nor any blood.

As far as the violence being "pornographic" -- I have to say I completely disagree. This review sums up my feelings quite well:

The primary focus of the pornography charge is the scene in which Jesus is scourged by nasty, depraved and brutal Roman guards... Those who talk about the relentless, gratuitous or pornographic nature of this section of the film tend to ignore several important elements. The extent of the violence depicted is mitigated by the fact that the camera itself cannot bear to look on and repeatedly draws away, sometimes so far that you can only hear it in the distance. And when the camera does look on, its focus is on Jesus’ face and trembling hands. Unlike pornography, but in the tradition of many horror flicks, Gibson realises that it is important not to show everything in graphic detail. Talk of his dwelling lovingly on every injury is quite mistaken.

Moreover, viewers are taken on two other journeys during this scene. They are party to a flashback explaining the past of Mary Magdalene, who is identified with the woman taken in adultery of John 8, following the typical Jesus film tradition. And the camera follows Mary and Mary Magdalene, focuses on their anguish and introduces Claudia Procles with her pieces of linen in the scene adapted from Catherine Emmerich’s visions. In short, the camera chooses not to gaze. Jesus is not objectified. The viewer is encouraged not to look and is often not allowed to look. The charge of pornography is not, in other words, a rational one. It is polemic.

I'd read previous, medically-detailed account of what happened in the crucifixion -- how it had felt from inside the body. Such accounts had moved me greatly. So I think that contributed to the anticlimax as well: in a movie, I think there's only so much you can show from the outside. But that's a limitation of the media, and not necessarily Mr. Gibson's fault.

In summary, I think I enjoyed The Gospel of John a bit more. But that's partly because of where I stand with the whole story: This isn't new to me, I'd even read the medical accounts beforehand, and plenty of discussion and reviews before I saw it. I think the movie would have more of an effect on someone who was "on the border" -- either a nominal Christian or someone who knew a bit about it, but hadn't really thought the whole thing through before.

The Passion is undoubtedly a better movie, as things movie-ish go, but I really enjoyed the breadth of perspective The Gospel of John gave, even though it had more of a low-budget feel. If you're squeamish, or a bit brainy, and interested in seeing a Jesus-movie, you might consider giving that one a go instead, or also.